


Not Just Your Pawn//Original Work

by orphan_account



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Brainwashing, Cults, Dark Fantasy, Drama, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Fantasy, Fate & Destiny, Fluff without Plot, Freeform, Fucked Up, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Heavy Angst, Heroes to Villains, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, I'm Going to Hell, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insanity, It Gets Worse, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kidnapping, Mental Breakdown, Mirror Universe, Multi, Murder, Original Character(s), Original Universe, Other, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Tags Are Fun, Tags May Change, Tragic Romance, the tags don't lie i'll get to the romance eventually, this story will probably be a wreck as i try to get my life together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-21 05:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17037587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nivera Galea had been chosen by the gods when she was still a child. However, she quickly discovers that she is caught in an endless game of chess, one that will rip her from her life, and force her to create a new identity. Now, "Adara" is caught between the forces of good and evil, and in order to get the king in checkmate, she must choose between logic and emotion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've been writing stories for about three years now, but i've just decided to start publishing them :)  
> I'll put little notes here beforehand.

Everything was red.

It was all she could see, with the iron knife dripping crimson in her hand as she watched the creature in front of her writhe in agony.

It was a now familiar sight, and strangely, this time, she wasn’t disturbed.

She stared at the pathetic thing that was quickly losing its thrashing energy. It gave one final violent spasm and a gurgling cough that turned the floor a brighter shade of red.

They said if she did as she was told, been a good little girl and broken the toys they gave her, Mama would come back.  
This was Toy Number 12 that she had broken, and there was still no Mama. What had she done wrong?

She jolted when she felt a cool, firm hand on her shoulder.  
“You’ve done well, Adara.” A smooth voice said behind her.  
She couldn’t hear, not really. This was good? This, she wondered, as she stared at the bloody, mangled corpse, was worthy of praise?  
“Come, child,” her Elder said, as he trailed his hand slowly down her arm to find her hand and began pulling her away from the shell of a human.  
“The others will be quite pleased with your advancements.” As he led her down the hall, Adara kept shooting back glances at the corpse in the marble room. Its glassy eyes frozen permanently in pain, and shock, and fear.

  
_'You’re only a child,' his sneer had been taunting, mocking the small child who stood in front of him. 'Go play with your dolls, little girl.'_

 

_She hadn't any dolls, she had told him. There was nothing in the room where they locked her away. 'I don't want to hurt you,' she continued, 'but they have my Mama. And the only way to get her back is to do as they say. And they say you need to die.'_

_The response to that had been a pitiful look, both to her and to his own fate._

_She hated pity._   
_Pity made her angry._   
_And when she was angry, she lashed out. In all, her tantrum lasted less than a minute, but the echo of a man was now bleeding from several, several stab wounds. She had counted each one- forty two. Her stabs had been quick, and deep, and painful. It had screamed._

She had to do as she was told, or she wouldn’t see Mama again.

She turned her attention back to her Elder, whose cold eyes were examining her. She didn’t like it, because she knew what he was imagining.

“Where’s mama?” She asked quietly. “You said if I was good, I could see her again. This one was the worst yet, I gave him a lot of stabs, and pain--”  
“I know, pure one, and we’ve told her of your progress. She’s very proud of you.”  
Her eyes met his, and her stomach twisted in pain. He was lying to her again. Didn’t their mamas teach them not to lie?

Adara wanted to pull away from the hand as it gently ran its thumb over her skin- like Mama used to, but different. A lot different. She didn’t quite know how, or why, but it was very different.  
“Please.” She glanced up at him. “I want Mama.”  
“Maybe if you’re good, you can see her,” was the reply, “but until then, I can’t do that.”

 

She hated the word ‘maybe’. Too many lies could be spread with that word, ‘maybe’.  
Maybe things will get better, maybe they won’t die, maybe she could see her Mama again.

She wanted to ask more, but fell silent. Defiance got you hurt. It was better to act. She was a great pretender.

She was taken back to her room, and her Elder gave her a kiss on her temple instead of the top of her head like usual. Then she was locked in. She lay on her bed, staring up at the golden domed roof. It was a large, luxurious room, especially compared to her home, but she wished her mother was here.

She closed her eyes, feeling the blood on her. For sure, it would stain the blankets, and she would be punished, but she no longer cared. _I’m a grown up_ , she thought dazedly, remembering her mother.

_'Nivera, you won’t grow up until you stop feeling like a child. So as long as you still have that childhood wonder'- her mother had tweaked her nose- 'you’ll never grow up!'_

But she had grown up. She was nine, so it was about time for her to start learning to be a housewife anyway, but still. Somehow, in twelve days and with twelve bodies, she had grown up- possibly twelve years.

She wanted to be a child again. She wanted to be Nivera of Rome again, and not Adara of..of….what was this place again?

She rolled over to hug her pillow, unable to cry. She stared at the blood that covered her pale skin- Gods, when was the last time she had felt the sun? Was she dying? Did anybody know where she was? And she was so hungry, too. Curious, she brought her bloody hand to her mouth, and tentatively licked it.

Strange, she thought, it doesn't taste like anything. Not even coppery. Its just slick and a little bitter, with a hollow aftertaste. With a sigh she brought her hand back down, finally feeling the guilt come to her. They weren't toys, that she had been given. They were people, who she had hurt, who she had killed.

But the part she felt worst about, the feeling that was hurting her, was that the blood had tasted good. And how she wanted to see that blood rush out of a person like that again- slower, this time, since she hadn't gotten a good look before.

Maybe tomorrow.  
Maybe the thoughts would be gone tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ate Da Bomb hot sauce and so am sick in bed, might as well type :/

  
The next day, she was awoken with her Elder’s hand stroking her hair. 

 

“It’s time,” was all he said. 

 

Her mind was foggy with sleep, and she stared at him confused. Who was this again? Why did she call him ‘Elder’ when he barely looked twenty? And, possibly the strongest thought of all, where was Mama? 

 

He helped her up, clucking at the dried blood that covered her. “You can’t go looking that  _ that,  _ come…” 

 

He took her to the bathing hall, helping her undress and washing her down with a cloth. She did her best to cover herself, but he pulled her arms away to scrub her off. 

Oh, gods, she hated the look he was giving her. Weren’t there any girl Elders? Why couldn’t she have one of those?

 

“You’re very special, you know,” he said, as he did with every morning. She said the words along with him in her mind.  _ You have greater power than you realize, chosen by the Gods, to lead us to salvation. You are our Savior, destined to enact justice on the world-- _

 

“By murder?” She interrupted, sick and tired of this daily speech, and never getting any answers. “How can i enact justice for a cruel world, by being cruel? How does that make sense?”

 

Her Elder’s eyes stared into her, “Adara, love….” He purred gently as he brushed her hair out of her eyes with a smooth hand. Adara did her best not to flinch. 

 

“An angel like you cannot possibly be cruel.” 

 

He pulled her out of the bath, rubbing her down with a very soft towel. As she stared sullenly ahead, her thoughts were racing.  _ I’m a prisoner. I’m in luxury, but locked away from everything- even Apollo can’t see me.  _

 

She was given a white silk dress, which she didn’t understand the purpose of since she never had to wear something this fancy before to an execution. Her Elder pulled up her hair, wrapping it in a bun. She hated it. 

She was led down the halls, but they went to a different part of this labyrinth. 

 

The first thing she noticed was the sunlight filtering through the circular window on the ceiling. Her eyes lingered on that precious sunlight, before allowing her eyes to wander the room. 

It was small, circular, and dark. The window cast a spotlight on a chair in the center of the room. And in the chair was a person, who was bound with iron shackles. 

 

“This man has done something very, very wrong.” Her Elder purred in her ear. 

“I want you to find out what it is for me.” 

 

Adara took a step to the man but was pulled back. 

“No, darling.” 

Her Elder said, with sugared venom, “Stay here.”

“But how can i-” She began to protest, but his eyes told her to shut up.

He smiled.   
“Use your mind. This is another exercise.” 

She stared at the man, unsure of what to do. Her Elder knelt next to her, brushing her hair back to lean in her ear, “Sense his thoughts. Abandon your body for his. Act like him, feel like him, think like him,  _ be him.”  _

 

Adara took a shuddering breath, staring into the man’s blackened eyes. 

Abandon the body. Abandon the body. Abandon….

She didn’t know how, or when, but she knew she  _ felt  _ his thoughts. It was like being presented with the hotter-colder game. 

She searched through the thoughts carefully. 

Then found one in particular. A murder. A murder of a good friend, one who had been loyal to the Elders. 

“He killed somebody.” She said quietly. 

“Ah, good, good…” she felt the person behind her purr. “Now, what was the victim’s name?”

Adara went deeper into the poor man’s mind, suddenly aware of everything- his emotions, the heart beating quickly. If she wanted, she felt she could grab it and squeeze it harshly and it would explode. 

But she focused on the question at hand. 

 

“Jeremiah.” She answered, “Jeremiah Roberts. He was twenty-four, six foot eight and weighed 198 pounds…” 

 

“Enough, Adara.” Her Elder said, to which her mouth immediately clamped shut. She turned her eyes to the broken man in the iron-shackled chair.

_ Why did you do it?  _ She thought to him, sadly. Now she’d have to murder him. 

She wasn’t expecting his head to raise to look her in the eyes. “He slept with my wife, lass. Raped her in a drunken stupor.”  
“Adara. I said, enough.” Her Elder’s voice sharpened. “I never gave you permission to speak with him.”

 

Adara lowered her head. 

  
“Now...” The Elder’s voice rang through the air, a final judgement to the damned in front of them.

 

She felt the cool, iron knife slide into her hands, her eyelids fluttering back up to meet the man’s as her Elder commanded her to do what she did best.

 

 

 

“...Finish him off.”


	3. Judgement Day, Part One

Adara turned back to the man in front of her, who was staring sadly at her. Fire rose in her as she thought it was pity- but it was something different. It was just regret.

She lowered her head, the hand gripping the knife trembling. She hated this. She was killing people who didn’t deserve to die...

 

 _I’ll make it quick,_ She thought to him. _I’m sorry._

 

With a slow, quivering breath, she found the doorway into his heart and imagined a knife slicing it in half.

 

The man coughed, slumping his head as blood dripped from his mouth. He had felt no pain, and she had gotten not a single drop of blood on the knife.

 

A fist was suddenly wrapping around her, and her lovely hairstyle was torn from its foundations.  

“You weren’t given permission for a painless death.” A venomous whisper cut into her ear. Adara struggled against his grip, tears burning her eyes. She felt her hair tearing, and her Elder grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the room.

Adara felt her heart beat fast and hard, her throat suddenly tight and dry as her stomach churned. Her pale fingers were trembling. Her eyes focused on the jade and golden halls that rushed by her as she was losing feeling in her wrist.

“W-Where are we...where are we going?” she croaked, though terrified of the answer. Her Elder turned sharply to her, his dark eyes slicing into her. His hand tightened on her wrist and in one jerked motion, twisted it. Adara felt a flood of pain and an audible snap, as her vision blurred with her sudden instability. She started crying, feeling her blood pool under her skin. Her hand was twisted in an unnatural position.   
“Where we’re going,” the Elder said, with quiet anger, “Is to the Head Council, to decide what your punishment will be.”  
Adara watched with tears, her pain making her unable to talk. She raced to keep up with the Elder, fingers trembling in his hand. As the familiar hallways faded away, and they descended a spiral staircase, she kept imagining what would happen to her.

But the thought that made her nauseous with guilt wasn’t tied to _her_ punishment at all- it was what would happen to her mother.

Did sparing someone always cause this much pain? Had it really only been twelve days since she was taken from her home, twelve bodies since she had been an innocent child, twelve nights of boredom and torture? She had morals, she didn’t want to kill people- that was _wrong._ The gods would punish her for sure. Slowly, her fear of her physical punishment was small compared to the idea of what would happen to her soul if she died, and even that was miniscule compared to the horror of what could happen to her mother for something that she hadn’t even done.   
As her tears poured down her face, she was led into a large room similar to the one the man had been in. Much larger, but still circular- although there were no windows. It was very hard to see. She barely made out the outlines of a chair in the center of the room similar to the one upstairs, but now it would be her who sat in its chains. Her heart slammed against her chest, wincing with a cry as her broken wrist was shoved into a restraint. In response, a hand grazed sharply against her cheek, as a venomous “Silence!” was heard.

It was so dark. She felt the hand take her chin and hold it tightly to keep her silent- as if she could talk- as the instructions continued.

“You will stay here,” her Elder said, “Until the Head Council appears. You will not speak-” here, his finger lightly brushed her lips, and it made them impossible to open. “You will not speak,” he repeated, “and you will not move. You will be as stone.”

Her heart sped up as she realized that this was someone who could control anything, with only words. He could say a snake would appear and it probably would. She couldn’t move. She felt pain, still, but physically could not move. She watched as the Elder went to her side.

It was what felt like hours before she saw the Council enter. Twelve men.   
Twelve days, twelve nights, twelve bodies, twelve Councilmen. Thank the gods she wasn’t twelve years old yet or this would be worse.

“Adara.” The Head addressed her. “Your Elder came to us with some disturbing news of disobedience. I hope you can explain yourself.”

 

Now was her chance, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t open her lips. This wasn’t fair!  


The Head lowered his gaze at her. “You understand, then, that failure to cooperate means great punishment?”

 

She couldn’t move. She needed to move, so she could defend herself. He was giving her the chance, and from the corner of her eye she saw her Elder with a hidden smirk on his face.

 

Why was he doing this? To see her suffer?

 

“Adara, we are giving you a chance to explain your situation. Your failure to do so implies that the words Elder Nicolai told us were true.”

 

So her Elder _did_ have a name… she had been starting to wonder. She couldn’t let him get away with this. She felt the magic that bound her, felt it resting on her skin as she struggled against it.

 

 _I wouldn’t try, if i were you._ His voice rang in her head. _That binding spell is strong enough to hold the gods themselves in prisons for decades._

 

She knew the Head was speaking, but didn’t hear a word that left his mouth. She kept pushing against the bonds, imagining them burn up. She felt it tighten, like she was pushing against a rubber wall, but kept that fire.

She didn’t have much fire in her heart, and so that didn’t work against it. She felt Nicolai’s amusement.

 

If she didn’t have fire, she could use ice. She tried using that. She felt her whole body begin to chill, and felt the magic begin to crack.

 

“And thus, Adara, we sentence you to-”   
  
_“Wait.”_ She croaked the word, as she felt the bonds that held her shatter. “Wait.” She said again, staring up at the Head, as Elder Nicolai and the other council members watched in horror at her voice.

 

She felt their shock, and knew only a little why. And the realization made her trembling heart chill with anger.

 

This had been another test, another game.

 

She just didn’t know if she had passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slowly getting my life together haha


	4. Judgement Day, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! so i finally got over my procrastination issues, for now, and have typed another chapter! this one's short sorry, i might publish another chapter today as well if i can get myself motivated

As her anger rose, she became aware of other walls in her mind. She froze the rubber, thought-clouding glaze that was cast over her, and as it shattered, guilt and panic began to stir.

Because as the spell she was under fell away, she began remembering what had happened before this.

 

_Nivera and her mother and sister went to the Temple, and everything had been going as it normally did._

_She watched as her mother held her baby sister, following behind them before her eyes caught a cloaked figure in the shadows of the temple._

_Something about them irked her, so she hurried to stay close to her mother._

_As they exited the temple, he reached out and took the baby from her mother’s arms._

_What happened next went in slow motion._

_He took her sister, and slit her precious Lydia’s throat. He slit the throat of a **baby**. _

_She was frozen as she watched her mother scream, as she, too, was taken by a knife._

_She heard a voice tell her to run, and so she broke through the bonds of fear, starting to run to find help._

_Nivera barely made it down the stairs when she felt him grab her hair, and pull her close in an embrace._

_“You saw your mother walk on without you, with the baby,” he purred, stroking her hair._   
_“You went to follow her, but I told you that if you did, she would surely die.”_

_As she heard his soft, honeyed words, she felt herself believe it. It became true, she saw her mother make a turn…_

_“Come with me,” he continued, “The gods have chosen you to help us. Once you have, the curse separating you and your mother will be broken, and you can see her again.”_

Nivera looked up at the Head Elder with ice in her eyes.

Hatred and grief clouded her common sense, the voice that told her to lay low and stay out of trouble.

“You lie.” Her voice strained, still weak in its renewal from the binding spell Nicolai- she would refer to him as ‘Elder’ no longer- had put on her.

“You lie! You said if i did as i was told, i’d see mama again! You said that she was safe, and wouldn’t be hurt!”  
As the Council’s horror spread at her words, her ability to speak through a bond that supposedly could lock the gods in silence for decades, her hatred only deepened.

She entered all of their minds at once- felt their collective fear and doubt and paid their silent prayers for mercy with no heed.

After all, she was their Savior. The harbinger of Justice. Chosen by the Gods.

If they wanted her to enact Justice on the damned, they would have it.

But they weren’t above consequences themselves.

With a single thought, the sound of twelve necks snapping at once cracked through the frosted air.

Eleven Councilmen collapsed, their eyes frozen, ever fearful in death.

There was no longer Nicolai.

And only the Head Elder remained.

Because she had questions for this one, and she wouldn’t leave- she would never go back to that room again, until she had answers.


End file.
